


Some Assistance Required

by CollisionTheory



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Dogma background radiation, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Military Shenanigans, Post-Umbara Arc (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CollisionTheory/pseuds/CollisionTheory
Summary: Jesse and Kix seize the opportunity to paw through Dogma's things when he leaves his rack aboard ship unlocked.
Relationships: CT-5597 | Jesse & CT-6116 | Kix
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	Some Assistance Required

“Kix! _Kix!_ ”

A hand grabbed his shoulder, rudely shaking him out of sleep. Kix peeled his eyes open, sluggishly turning his head to stare over the top of his rack.

“Mmm Jesse…what d’you want?” he mumbled, rolling his body around towards him. A dull roar spread throughout the compartment for a second, vibrating the deck as a small ship was launched out of the hangar a level below them. Both he and Jesse barely noticed; they were so used to it by now.

“He’s gone, now’s our chance!” Jesse’s eyes were bright– he looked completely awake.

Kix just stared at him, limbs splayed haphazardly beneath the sheets, eyes blinking like it was an enormous effort to keep them open.

Jesse threw a sidelong glance at nothing in particular before his attention returned to his friend.

“Dogma. He spent 10, 15 minutes ‘polishing his deecee’ but left the pictures up, and now he’s gone somewhere. I was listening. We’ve gotta hurry up.” 

Kix was punched into a new level of wakefulness.

“Jesse…why were you listen– _what?_ ” Amazement and disbelief vied with several negative emotions for control of his expression, leaving him stunned. Then he snapped into seriousness as the professional part of his brain remembered something. “Did it- did it last longer than four hours?”

It was Jesse’s turn to be confused, face scrunching up the tattoo of the Republic cog over his head.

“W-what?”

“’Kay…he’ll be okay, he’ll be okay…” Kix rolled over on his bunk. “…lemme go back to sleep.”

Jesse grabbed his shoulder and leaned over him.

“His rack’s unlocked,” he whispered.

Kix rolled back over, staring directly into Jesse’s face for a moment. Understanding and something else flashed between them and the medic was up, swinging his legs over the side of the rack, careful not to bash his heels into the man sleeping below him like he’d done a few dozen times. (Okay definitely more than that, but currently he was barely awake.)

They rounded a corner past stacks of narrow lockers, moving quietly so as not to wake the others sleeping in their berths. Pale light illuminated one clone’s face on an upper rack as he read something on a datapad, while another was curled up around a helmet he held wrapped in his arms. Kix noticed the man’s chest shudder as he clutched it tighter– he made a mental note to check in on him once the sleep cycle was over.

Jesse stopped at a stack of bunks. His friend sighed wistfully, coming up behind him.

“He’s got a bottom rack? Lucky son of a sith...”

Jesse ignored this mistake– the top rack was obviously better since you could actually _sit up_ in it and had airflow– and did his best to look offended in the dark, a hand over his chest.

“Kix! When you talk about Dogma like that, you talk about _me_ like that.”

His face opened in a slow grin that was mirrored on the medic’s own as he dropped down to his knees, craning his head to look into Dogma’s bunk space and the adjoining bulkhead his rack was pressed against.

“Huh. That’s…uh…” Jesse had been hoping Dogma would unknowingly provide some ‘new material’ for him when all his previous fantasies had gone a bit stale, but this was…different _._

“What?” asked Kix, dropping down beside Jesse and squinting into the deeper darkness of the bottom rack. “Can hardly see…”

Jesse reached out a hand to grab something that had been stuck to the durasteel. He held it in his palm in front of Kix. They stared at the flimsi cutout, then at each other.

It simultaneously not at all what either of them had been expecting and yet exactly what they _had_ been expecting ever since they’d gotten to know the clone.

“ _GAR Code of Justice, Article 93_ …” Jesse mumbled the lines as he read them out loud. “Kriffin’ Dogma…”

Kix stuffed his fist over his nose and mouth to stifle a laugh, convulsively squeezing his eyes shut.

“No…It’s– no way, there must be more. He must’ve switched it out with the real pictures.” He stared at his friend like he was willing the clone to confirm with him that Dogma did actually have a sense of humor.

Jesse stuck the flimsi back against the bulkhead, then put both hands on the edge of the mattress and pushed the rack up, revealing the shallow storage space beneath.

For a moment they both just stared. Apart from the usuals– hygiene kit, underclothes, spare change of blacks, socks, datapad– there were also…

“… _field manuals?_ ” Jesse choked out the words as they both shuffled through Dogma’s articles, moving aside flimsibooks of training material and doctrinal publications, some of which he’d honestly never seen before in his genetically double-timed life.

Kix picked up a worn copy of the GAR Code of Justice.

“Didn’t know they actually made a flimsi of this,” he said.

Jesse flipped wildly through a recon manual, searching in vain for hidden pictures tucked within its pages of anything sufficiently hot and humanoid to really get him going whenever he next had 20 minutes of acceptable privacy.

“It’s just… it’s just the regs, brother.” Jesse sighed, heart heavy, and set the manual back down inside Dogma’s rack.

Kix rubbed his temples, awash in silent laughter and disbelief as he looked from Jesse to the spot on the bulkhead where the “picture” Dogma had ostensibly been using as an aid was tacked. 

But then beads of cold splashed across the back of his head. He shuddered and turned around, face quickly becoming a mask of horror as he punched Jesse in the shoulder.

“Ouch! Hey what’d–” then his face frozen too.

A sneering clone loomed over them both, arms crossed over his bare chest as water dripped slowly onto the deck. 

Dogma was back from the refresher.

**Author's Note:**

> Article 93 is a reference to one dealing with Cruelty and Maltreatment within the military justice code of the USA. I figured Dogma would like that one after dealing with Krell. I don't actually know anything about military law but why should I let my ignorance stop me lol.


End file.
